


Favourite flavour

by Fanfreluche



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Smut, Young Dutch, Younger Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfreluche/pseuds/Fanfreluche
Summary: Arthur won’t lick in public.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Favourite flavour

“Lick it.”

“...”

“Lick it, Arthur.”

“No,” He growls, not so loud as to attract the attention of the people sitting to our left and right. “It’s… obscene.”

I bite the right corner of my lower lip not to smile. He is dead serious. I try to pretend to be serious too.

“That’s the proper way,” I explain, trying to maintain eye contact, but he lowers his eyes. “Look, everyone is doing it.”

He casts hesitant glances at the merry couples of various ages, over-excited children, a group of giggling girls, then looks down again. Says nothing. Frowns. Pouts. I notice I’m licking my lips and stop.

“Besides, you like licking things.” My voice comes out a bit coarse. Can’t help it. This is delicious. “Don’t you?”

“Not in public!”

He is looking at me now. No, glowering more like. So quick to anger, always. But that’s alright. I move the spoonful of chilled dessert a bit closer, lifting it up to his mouth. He backs away with a huff, sits with arms folded across his chest. The melting cream is dripping from the spoon onto the wooden table. This is not going to work. 

“Fine.”

No, I haven’t given up. And so moments later we are in a neat hotel room, sitting on the bed, a fresh bowl of ice cream resting in the palm of Arthur’s hand. He dips the spoon in, lifts it up to his mouth, pauses, stares at it for a moment, then pushes the tip of his tongue out and licks. 

“So?” I ask, my impatience getting the better of me. “How is it?”

“Same as before…” 

I raise an eyebrow, watching with a smile as he further extends his tongue to lick the cold, firm chocolate cream again, and again, and again. Did I plan this all, knowing he would be too shy to do such a trivial thing as licking ice cream in public when he has no qualms about shooting down a fellow? Who knows...

“You know I don’t like sweets,” He speaks in-between urgent dips and licks. “And with this stuff, don’t make a difference if you lick it or just eat it, if you ask my opinion.”

Yes, I can see that… I even nod to humour him. Even so, can’t help but smile a little. Not only cause it’s fun seeing him contradict himself, but I’m glad that he seems to like ice cream after all. Still can’t believe he’s never had any before. Wouldn’t have found out either, had it not been for his blunder at the swindling gig we pulled yesterday. Hosea, Arthur and I were posing as some patrons attending a charity event and met a pair of lovely demoiselles who somehow or the other brought the conversation to ice cream. Everyone was asked to divulge their favourite flavour. Now imagine the look on their faces when our own boy declared his penchant for ‘caviar ice cream with a hint of cognac’. Poor Hosea nearly choked on his lemonade. Thankfully I wasn’t swilling any of that piss-coloured drink at the time… We knew he was trying to sound fancy, but back at the hotel we had to quiz him about what had possessed him to make such an outlandish claim, and learned that not only had he never tasted caviar - which was to be expected - he had never had any ice cream either. And so I took it upon myself to rectify this. And, well, half the pleasure is in the licking, if you ask me.

“If it’s too sweet, you can always try something savoury after,” I offer, comfortable in my position leaning sideways on the bed, watching him finish licking the last spoonful. 

He holds my gaze, putting the spoon into the bowl and the bowl on the nightstand, wipes his mouth with his sleeve - which I’ve tried so many time to stop him from doing, and I’m distracted by a repeated reminder of my failed efforts when abruptly I’m pushed back and he is on top on me, kissing me all over my face, leaving sticky traces everywhere till I finally catch his mouth, and his cold, sweet tongue, mmm… Hadn’t expected this. Usually there is endless teasing before he agrees to do something. Maybe the ice cream made him horny. Or the licking. Can’t say that I mind…

I roll us over and pin him under me to the mattress, holding his wrists up with one hand, the other moving to reveal more skin as I push his already disturbed shirt further up, begin unbuttoning his union suit. I whisper something in his ear and he nods, so I let go of his wrists and continue undressing him with both hands now. There is no hurry. It’s summer and the afternoon will be hours long. Suspenders are gone, and the shirt, and I start pulling down his jeans. The boots are in the way, so they go too. I enjoy undressing him, and the way he rolls left and right to help me remove each article of clothing, if he is in a good mood, like now, docile, calm. It’s probably more the heat than a newly gained desire to obey. That’s alright. I’m getting what I want. 

When I get what I want, I’m generous, with kisses, pressed here and there, and caresses, gentle along the thin curves of his thighs and torso, and with licks, anywhere I like. Apparently I’m also generous in obliging such murmured demands as ‘I want you naked too’. Maybe the heat is getting to me as well. When I undress for him, he doesn’t offer to help, just watches, reaches for a pillow and props it under his head, making himself comfortable. 

I lean over him when I’m done, arms planted on either side of his chest, which is slowly moving up and down with each breath. His neck and cheeks are tinted pink, mouth half open, eyes also, but watchful. I take my time deciding what I want to do with him today. It’s not easy, I have too many choices when he is this receptive. I lose focus thanks to the feather-light touch of his inner thigh and knee along my hip. I smile. He’s getting impatient. Hmm, but, that’s alright, I think, as I kiss him briefly on the lips, then make my way down between his thighs, pushing them further apart. 

I won’t fuck him today, at least not in the traditional sense, I decide, kissing his lower belly, enjoying the way his skin shivers slightly, the way his cock twitches. It’s already hard, and I’m tempted to take its glistening head in my mouth, but I hold back. Move down instead to kiss and bite and kiss and lick and kiss his thighs, humming to feel his hand brushing slowly into my hair, fingers kneading gently. I look up and see he is nibbling on the knuckles of his other hand. Not sure if it’s so that he won’t moan and mewl or so that he won’t touch himself. Perhaps both. That’s alright. As long as his eyes are closed in pleasure. Nipples hard. Lovely…

I lick my index finger wet and circle the tip slowly around his opening, once, twice, before pushing in, at the same time biting the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. He winces, and wriggles a little. I feel my heart racing when I lift my eyes to see his fixed on mine with anticipation. I hold his gaze when I push further in, then out, repeating, until it becomes easier, and then I add a second finger. 

“Shhh, relax...”

He is tight and hot, and smooth, and I feel his muscles tense around my fingers when I find the spot. We’ve done this before, so I know what he likes. Soon he is panting and sighing and bucking, and I try to calm him by stroking his hips and his belly. I don’t mind his being loud when we’re alone, but I want this to last a bit longer. 

“Arthur…”

I still my fingers, maintaining the pressure.

“Hmmm…”

I tickle the underside of his cock with my tongue and it jumps. That’s the only contact, no more.

“Tell me when you’re close.”

“No…”

I’m surprised. That’s a first.

“How come?”

“Ahh, you’ll stop…”

Fair enough.

“Okay, don’t then.”

I chuckle and resume fucking him with my fingers, massaging his pleasure spot in a measured pace. There are other ways to prolong this. Or so I thought. Turns out, sometimes I miscalculate. And that’s alright. Must be the damned ice cream, or the heat, or both. When he climaxes it takes us both by surprise. I even laugh a little to see his untouched cock shooting its load all over his chest and chin and face. Oh, he’ll be mad at me for laughing once the tremors subside and the high is over. So I pull out my fingers and move to stretch on top of him, belly to belly, his cum smeared between us, and kiss him tenderly on the mouth, to show I mean no wrong. 

His response is lazy and disoriented, a bit dazed, I guess. His body must be still sensitive, because when I pinch a nipple he moans in my mouth, hips jerk a bit, tugs on my hair where his hand is still gripping loosely. 

I could fuck him good and hard now, like I want to. But there is something else I want even more after today’s performance. 

“You alive?” I gently bite the side of his throat, rolling onto my back. 

“No…” His voice is rough and tired. “Lemme sleep some, gotta have energy for later today.”

“What for?” I Don’t remember having planned anything.

He is grinning when he tilts his flushed face to look at me. 

“Remember those young ladies? Ones who asked about ice cream flavours?” He yawns, and continues. “Well, I might have a rendezvous with them this evening.” 

“Which one?”

“Both.” 

Hah. I shake my head, shift a hand to take hold of my cock.

“You’re really looking for punishment, aren’t you? Wasn’t Mary enough sample for the whole lot?”

His eyebrows knit together. I’ve always admired how thick they are. 

“This is different. I ain’t gonna fall in love with them, Dutch. Had enough of that crap for a whole lifetime.”

Hmm, true that. I have a feeling this infatuation with Mary might last him a lifetime, from the way he reacts to hearing her name every time she is mentioned.

“From now on, I’m just looking to have fun.” He adds with enough conviction that I nearly believe him. “That’s why I’m seeing the both of them.”

“So, if it’s with one person, it’s love?” 

I’m in a mood to tease. Just a bit. And it works. He opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again, looks away, blushing. A light breeze entering the room through the open windows and billowy curtains ruffles his hair. I notice I’ve left a bite mark on his throat. Sorry, ladies, if only I’d known...

“Dutch,” He turns to face me again, looking all serious. “This thing between us-”

Time for an interruption: “Don’t forget French letter _s_.”

“Gah, I hate those things…” He grumbles, welcoming the change of topic evidently. “And who knows, if I knock one of ‘em up, her folk might make me marry her, then I’ll be a rightful member of high society...” 

The mischievous grin is back when he proceeds to tell me all about this fantasy of him being a rich fellow travelling in a coach which happens to be robbed by no other than Dutch van der Linde, demanding that Mr Morgan bends over the carriage seat… 

That’s… Right. Enough fantasising. “Your turn now.”

He pauses, then holds up two fingers with a questioning look.

“No,” I clarify, idly stroking my erection. “Lick it.”


End file.
